


growing up (nostalgia)

by spacegirlkj



Series: Oihina Week [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternative Universe - Same Team, Angst, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Nostalgia, seijou hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7400320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'"I am so afraid, Shouyou." he says truthfully, the words slipping past his lips before he can stop them. "I can't take it."</p><p>"Can't take what?" Hinata asks, adjusting the way he is laying.</p><p>"I'm getting older, and I haven't done anything yet," Oikawa says."'<br/>Nostalgia comes in the form of a ginger boy in blue, reminding Oikawa that youth is fleeting.<br/>(based off of the song Ribs by Lorde and Lover's Spit by Broken Social Scene.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	growing up (nostalgia)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: comfort  
> Day 4: Same team  
> (listen to the linked songs for a better picture)

 

  
[ _The drink you spilt all over me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)  
[ _"Lover's Spit" left on repeat_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)  
[ _My mum and dad let me stay home_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)  
[ _It drives you crazy getting old_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)

[ _-Ribs, Lorde_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qaeoz_7cyE)

Hinata isn’t sure how his friendship with Oikawa forms. It doesn't even seem to have a beginning, as if they had known each other all along. He finds himself spending more and more time with the third years, despite being younger. It’s odd, but no one questions it.

Oikawa isn’t sure what drives him to Hinata. He tells himself it’s how he worked to get where he is, how he never rested a day to stand where he stands. Oikawa admires that, but he knows it isn’t true. He knows it isn’t true when Hinata smiles, the sun pouring our of his pores and brightening the room. If the world was black and white, his smile would bring colour, it would grow roses and make love bloom.

(Does nostalgia exist when you feel like you’ve met before?)

They talk all the time, and it’s weird. Hinata had never had a friend like this, where they seek you out to talk and make plans on Friday nights. He thought he wouldn't quite fit, but Hinata slides into the group with ease. Oikawa let’s his plastic smile fade when he’s around them, Hinata and the third years, trades it in for one that extends to his eyes and sometimes falters. The third years poke fun at each other, and it’s refreshing not to be intimidated by them.

When Oikawa stops by his house one day, claiming to want to walk him to school (they don’t live especially close to each other, but Hinata doesn't question it), his mother invites him in. Oikawa is a flirt, Hinata learns, and he charms his mother so much that he get’s an invite to dinner. Hinata is blushing when his mother tells him _You’ve made quite the handsome friend!_ but he isn't sure why.

(Does nostalgia come from your past life? Is this deja vu?)

Training is gruelling, but it’s Hinata’s life source. It makes him sweat and grin, and his energy extends to everyone in the gym. They’re all apprehensive, at first, but they grow to love him. 

Oikawa is sitting in Hinata’s bedroom, laying upside down on his bed, his head dangling off the edge. Hinata is sat on the floor, frustrated over his literature homework. Oikawa is talking him through it, and surprisingly, he’s as good as a tutor as he is a captain.

“You can’t you say _gwah_ and _bam_ in essays, right? So instead, you use these words.” He says, pointing to a list he had written out earlier. “Teachers love when you expand you vocabulary, and it makes any piece flow when you don't repeat the same words.” Oikawa says. Hinata nods, finishing up his last sentence before slamming his text book close and kicking it to the other side of the room. Oikawa laughs, pulling himself up to sit upright. 

Hinata jumps onto his bed, joining Oikawa. Oikawa smiles, shifting over so Hinata can sit between his legs. Oikawa is desperate for attention, he is the first to vouch for that, and Hinata has no concept of personal space. It works out just fine, and Oikawa wraps his arms around the younger boy. 

It isn't until Hinata picks out a film to play on his laptop, _Ponyo_ , that it hits Oikawa. Hinata is _beautiful,_ the look of adoration and wonder in his eyes is enough to make Oikawa’s heart swoon. He tells his heart off, because it’s not supposed to do that. It’s been doing that too often around Hinata, and he prays that the ginger hasn’t noticed.

Oikawa learns that Hinata likes classical music as much as he likes bubblegum pop, and the revelation is surprising, but it fits him well. Hinata looks so stunning when he closes his eyes and just _listens_ , letting the violins fill his ears. It’s the first time Oikawa’s seen him so silent.

(Is nostalgia a condition? Can it be cured by space, or fuelled by falling in love?)

The inter high rolls around, and Hinata faces Kageyama for the first time since middle school. He learns that Oikawa has a grudge against Kageyama, and Hinata finds that fitting. 

“Geniuses,” Oikawa spits as they warm up. “I hate them.”

Hinata knows the feeling, and he understands how it feels to have to claw your way to the top, through blood and spit and tears. Hard work and relentless effort were the only reasons either of them were there.

They win against Karasuno, and Hinata can’t help but feel an eerie presence from the opposing team. They seem like they’re missing something, but Hinata brushes it off, because blue looks better on him anyways. Kageyama glares as they leave, and it sends chills down Hinata’s spine. He speeds up, walks so close to Oikawa that their hands brush. It takes everything in him not to grab that hand, entwine their fingers.

When they face Shiratorizawa the next day, they loose. That is the fist time Hinata sees Oikawa cry. He doesn't know what to say, but Oikawa looks angry. He is gripping the sink, knuckles white, his mouth pulled into a pained expression. Iwaizumi pulls him away, tears brimming in his own eyes. He learns Oikawa _hates_ being seen crying, and Hinata doesn't blame him. He saves his tears for when he get’s home.

Oikawa is like a tree, he realizes. Strong, independent, beautiful. He is a tree that thinks he is wilting.

Oikawa invites Hinata over to house the next day, and they spend it watching 90s alien shows and talking. Somehow, they never run out of words, even when silence fills the space between them. Their movements speak for them, the lingering touches, the way neither pulls away from an embrace. 

Hinata learns that Oikawa believes in life outside of earth, and he thinks that’s fitting. His stomach drops when he listen to Oikawa’s laugh, a hideous snort, seal clap kind of laugh. It makes him laugh, makes his heart burst, makes him want to cry. They keep laughing at nothing in particular until Hinata can’t breathe. Their ribs hurt, and so do their hearts. Despite it all, Oikawa feels miles away.

(Does nostalgia cling onto you? Will it suffocate you in your sleep, creep it’s way into your dreams?)

Practice resumes after the break, and Oikawa and the rest of the third years don’t leave. Training is as stressful as ever, and a new player joins them. The attitude of the team changes, but it balances out. Oikawa has a habit of meddling until everything is perfect.

They usually stay late to practice, the third years and him, but Iwaizumi has to babysit his sister, and Maki and Mattsun ditch for date night, leaving Oikawa and Hinata alone to practice. 

Once everyone leaves, Oikawa plugs his phone into the gym's speakers, turning on a playlist. He smiles, hearing the familiar guitar fill the room as he walks back over to Hinata. 

Oikawa sighs, a lazy smile working its way into his face. "I love this song," He muses. "Dance with me." He says to Hinata, extending a hand. 

Hinata takes it tentatively, letting himself be pulled into Oikawa's arms. He leads, his taller frame leaning over Hinata's. The lyrics start, filling the gym. 

_[all these people drinking lovers spit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RK-91jT1f2E) _

It's a simple dance, a sped up version of swaying in circles. Oikawa pulls away, extending his arms before pulling hinata back in, leaning down so their noses touch. 

_they listen around, clean their face with it_

"Why are we dancing?" Hinata asks as Oikawa spins him. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, but Oikawa can hear it clear as day, the way it sounds like songbirds and the flowing ocean. 

"Why not? We can do serves and receives after the song ends." Oikawa replies. 

_and they listen to teeth to learn how to quit_

For some reason, Hinata doesn't want to stop. He goes along with it, catching himself smiling as Oikawa leads him through the steps. He's good at dancing, too: his long legs lead perfectly well, and the charm he emits fits the style perfectly. Hinata is enchanted, eyes sparking as he smiles. 

_tied to a night they never met_

When they pull apart, Hinata is still smiling, and so is Oikawa, though it's the kind of smile that doesn't extend to his eyes, the kind that you'd call sad or halfhearted. He is too melancholic, too thoughtful for his age, Hinata thinks. Oikawa picks up a ball, spinning it slightly before moving wordlessly to toss it towards Hinata, who spikes it without question. 

It's a steady rhythm, toss, spike, toss, spike. It’s pretty simple without blockers, but Hinata doesn't mind, and neither does Oikawa. The fact that they're there together is enough. 

When they finish, the song still plays in the back of Hinata's head as they clean up. Oikawa hears Hinata humming it, and smiles to himself. There is sweat sticking to both of their skins, but neither is bothered. It’s grounding, tethering them both to reality. Both of them are dreamers, they learn, flying higher in more ways than one. 

(Can you feel nostalgia from something that hasn't happened yet?)

It's not unusual for Hinata to follow Oikawa home after practice. They sleepover together often enough, with Iwaizumi stopping by sometimes to join them. Oikawa doesn't say, but Hinata knows that he stays at Iwaizumi's when Hinata isn't around, spending time with his best friend alone. 

But that's what Hinata and he had begun to do. Iwaizumi would smile knowingly before parting ways at his street, letting the pair walk down the subdivision to Oikawa's house alone. (Tonight, he simply texts Oikawa, reassuring him that Oikawa will be fine. Oikawa thinks Iwaizumi knows him better than he knows himself.)

They've been doing it every week now, sleeping over, and the routine begins to feel like comfort to Hinata, like a soft bed in a familiar place, the scent of bread baking on Sundays, birds chirping on early mornings. It's soft, it’s warmth in the winter and cool in the summer, and it's everything Hinata wants. 

(Can you feel nostalgia from somewhere you've never been?)

When they arrive, its dark, and Oikawa tosses his bag down in the foyer, Hinata following in suit. 

"My parents went out for the weekend, they're letting me stay home." Oikawa tells Hinata. There's bitterness in his voice, too concentrated to be ignored. 

It's later: and they're lying on a futon on Oikawa's back porch. The stars are bright, they twinkle and shine through the velvety black sky, sending a soft glow down from the heavens. It brushes its silvery glow on everything, from the leaves on the trees, to the glimmer in Oikawa's eyes. 

Its intimate, the way they lie. Adjacent, laying on their sides so to stare the other in the eye. They are _so_ close, that when Hinata laughs, his warm breath can be felt on Oikawa's nose. He pulls the covers up higher, chilled by a reminder, chilled by wind and the way Hinata is looking at him. 

Oikawa moves a stray strand of hair from Hinata's face, the smaller boy parting his lips slightly as Oikawa continues the motion, running his hands through Hinata's orange hair, across his scalp. 

"I am so afraid, Shouyou." he says truthfully, the words slipping past his lips before he can stop them. "I can't take it."

"Can't take what?" Hinata asks, adjusting the way he is laying. 

"I'm getting older, and I haven't done anything yet," Oikawa says. Hinata opens his mouth to protest, but Oikawa continues before he can say anything. 

"I'm being overtaken, because someone is always going to be better, simply because they were born that way. And I’m left spending my entire life working to catch up, when they barely need to break a sweat. And what is it worth, when I'll always be two steps behind? I'm getting older, but I'm not getting anywhere but stuck, Hinata."

Hinata stays silent as tears begin to form in Oikawa's eyes. He blinks them away, taking a shaky breath. 

"Sometimes I wish we would've met when we were older.” Oikawa chokes out. He knows, he _knows_ he looks terrible, so he rolls over to face the sky as he continues.

"It would be different. You wouldn't have to deal with me leaving. You'd be with someone who could bring out the best in you in ways I can't," Oikawa says, his voice cracking as he speaks, the tears now running down the side of his nose. It’s hard to breathe this way, the snot runs down his throat and coats it in slime, making each breath he takes crack.

Hinata reaches forwards, rolling Oikawa over so he is once again facing him. He wipes the tears under his eyes, cooing softly to comfort him. Oikawa is an ugly crier, he is sniffling and choking on his spit, his eyes red and puffy. Somehow, Hinata still finds himself staring. 

"Something tells me you aren't talking just about volleyball.” He says quietly. Oikawa shrugs, a meek smile on his face. 

"We wouldn't have to worry about our parents, or anyone, we could just _leave_ and not look back." Oikawa says, his voice hoarse. "I could kiss you without feeling guilty for having to leave you behind."

Hinata smiles, shaking his head. “Tooru,” He says, tracing a hand over OIkawa’s wet cheeks. “You’ll never leave me behind, because I'll always run after you." He whispers, brining his face closer to Oikawa's, bridging the gap between them and pressing their lips together. 

For something he told himself was supposed to be wrong, it felt like coming home after practice, like the stretch of muscles rarely used, the soreness left from good sex or hard matches, the warmth of the hearth in the winter and the cool breeze in a hot summer. Shouyou’s lips felt like everything he never wanted to realize he loved, and yet, here he was, kissing sunshine and wrapping his hands in its hair. 

(Is nostalgia tangible? Does it taste like sunflower seeds and sound like the colour turquoise?)

Shouyou is an amazing kisser, Tooru learns. His lips are soft, and when he lacks experience his makes up for being adaptable. More often than not, they find each other smiling into the kiss, teeth clashing, giggles bubbling from the back of their throats. 

But sometimes, like now, the smiles fade and are replaced with delicious whimpers rising from Shouyou’s chest. Tooru loves to kiss almost as much as Shouyou, and they both learn that the other is a tease. _Lover’s Spit_ is playing on repeat, and each movement is slow, as if they have all the time in the world. Every touch comes naturally and fluid, like a continuous dance each partner knows.

Tooru skirts his hands along Shouyou’s sides, slipping them under his shirt to tease as his nipples. Hinata arches into the touch, breaking the kiss to breathe heavily. He leans back and raises his hands as Tooru takes off his shirt. Once its off, Tooru takes a moment to admire the expanse of skin that is usually hidden.

Shouyou is strong, and the softly defined muscles of his abdomen feel amazing under Tooru’s fingertips. He brings his mouth back to Shouyou, continuing to kiss him as he hands worship his chest, tracing along the sides, sliding up his back, tweaking at his nipples and scratching down the front.

Shouyou pulls away, grabbing the hem of Tooru’s sweater and pulls it over his head. He has to rise to his knees to complete the motion, but once it’s off, it’s a gift. Tooru’s skin is smooth, and responsive to every touch. Tentatively, Shouyou slides a hand up his chest, stopping when he feels Tooru’s heart beat under his hand.

Shouyou smiles, the kind that looks like it has an ulterior motive, and Tooru knows he’s _gone_ when Shouyou climbs into his lap and begins to press open mouthed kiss down his jaw, his hands now repeating the motions Tooru just performed on Shouyou, rubbing his nipples, scratching lightly at his back.

Shouyou’s moves his mouth lower, and begins to trace his teeth down Tooru’s neck. Tooru releases an honest-to-god moan when he bites down and begins to suck. He is so tall, but he clings to Shouyou like a life source as the younger continues to bite and kiss at his neck.

Eventually, he pulls back, a think strand of salvia still connected to his mouth. Shouyou wipes his mouth his the back of his hand, his brown eyes wide and beautiful and so deceivingly _innocent_ as they stare Tooru down.

Tooru leans forward, pushing Shouyou down slowly onto the mattress. His cheeks are flushed red, and Tooru probably looks the same. His ginger hair fans out across the pillow, and Tooru closes the space between them, bringing their lips together once more.

That night, Tooru learns that Shouyou’s toes curl when he comes, that he whimpers more than he moans. Shouyou learns that Tooru whines like a spoiled child, that he bites his lip to keep from moaning, because when they manage to push through his throat, they are feminine and _loud_. Shouyou thinks that they are the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard.

When they finish, they find solace in each other’s embrace, Shouyou curling into the crook of Tooru’s neck. His breathing is slow, his breath warm, and this is everything Tooru ever wanted and more.

(Is nostalgia a goddess? Does she give you everything you want because you’ve had it for ages without knowing?)

They win against Karasuno in the Spring High. The match is tedious, like an itch you cant quite reach. Shouyou resists spitting at Kageyama’s feet when he sees him, but the setter simply snarls. Tooru is proud as ever before the match, but it all fades as it begins. His eyes narrow, and he earns seven straight points in service aces. 

Shouyou switches in when Kyoutani get’s too heated, when he begins to miss his hits because he sees red. They trade spots, and Shouyou tries not to look to scared as he passes the number to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he swears he see’s Kyoutani smirk. 

(Kyoutani goes on to be slammed against the wall by Yahaba in a shouting match, so he may have been smirking about that, Hinata thinks.)

Theres something about Hinata’s presence, Tooru realizes, that lifts the team. It isn’t like Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s presence, the playful sarcasm that making you smirk, or his childish teasing, or Iwaizumi’s intimidating mothering aura. There is something so pure, so gleeful in the way he grins when he spikes, the way his eyes shine like christmas lights when the ball smacks against his palm. 

When Tooru is cornered, he _always_ tosses to Iwaizumi, but Shouyou doesn't mind. He knows Iwaizumi is stronger, so he watches with awe as Tooru tosses to him from the other side of the court, and Iwaizumi spike it through number 11’s block. All he needs to know is that Shouyou will follow him where he goes. The spike lands, winning them the match, and sending them to the finals.

When they face Shiratorizawa, they only win by the skin of their teeth, a technicality and an injury. The match is gruesome, and any playful aura that once lingers is gone. The last set deuces until 36, when Tooru dumps the toss, and it hits the ground just before anyone can get it back up.

When they realize what had happened, Tooru screams with glee. He can’t believe it, there are tears streaming down his face. Even Kyoutani cracks an honest to god _smile_. They made it, they really did.

They go on to loose in the first round at nationals, but it was a great game. They’re all bitter, but there is a gleam in the third years eyes about just having the chance to stand on that stage. Tooru shakes the captions hand with a smile. The caption smiles back, his cheshire cat grin wide and grip firm.

They all cry when they go out for dinner, Tooru sending the team off with a speech that has everyone is tears. Tears turn to laughter, and laughter turns to giddiness as he shout and speak. 

The future can wait, because that night is spent playing footsies under the table and making fun of Kyoutani’s blush, making Kunimi crack a smile, making Maki and Mattsun shut up for once because they're too busy laughing without words.

The defeat still rests in their bones, but for tonight, Tooru holds Shouyou’s hand under the table, and they laugh until their stomachs hurt, until there are splits in their sides and soreness in their ribs.

(Can you feel nostalgia in the moment? The future? Or is that just fear?)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i was sad so i made them sad ha ! chat w/ me on tumblr spacegaykj  
> (comments and kudos mean S O MUCH)


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